Happy Establishment of the Republic of Turkey Day
by Pierrot Of Words
Summary: England and France's ultimate Turkish birthday present. Things go slightly awry. Unfinished. It has an end, but you can tell it needed a lot more work. Greece/Turkey/Japan. THERE IS NO SMUT, implied, but I took it out completely from time constriction


Everything seemed to be turning into a horribly twisted mal-reality.

That morning Sadiq woke to an uncouth noise; one of a mewling cat that had gotten into his house somehow. Well THAT was precisely what he needed first-thing in the morning, a reminder of his troubles. His instinct was to swat at it sleepily. he immediately woke from the searing pain of being scratched. The little bastrd broke skin and everything!

"Oh, yer gonna geddit, ya lil' shit!"

He grabbed the cat physically by the tail and swung it up. It flailed and he simply threw it through an open window. It deserved it. He wondered momentarily why it had been wearing a ribbon, but it didn't bother him too much.

Seeing as he was up already, he took his morning bath. What did he have planned for the day today? Oh yes, there was some sort of irregular meeting he was being forced to attend. If memory served him right, they mentioned they were sending someone to escort him specifically. How stupid, he knew how to make it to... where was the meeting, again?

The doorbell rang while he was mid-bath, and he rubbed his forehead wearily. That's way too early in the morning. How far away was the meeting that he had to depart at this hour? He wrapped a towel around his waist and placed his signature mask, since it could just be some stupid scheme to see his face. It wasn't like he objected to showing his face, it was just so annoying when people went to lengths to see that he wouldn't make it easy on those people.

When he opened the door, he immediately scowled. It was his second and third least-favorite people in the world; England and France. He could get along with them, but there was always that lingering bitterness about the whole... 'dissolution of the Ottoman Empire' thing. They were, in the end, the reason he now bore the same name as a fowl. Nonetheless, they weren't nearly as wretched as that Greecian, so he was okay with them.

"What a pleasure. Didn'spect you two to come bargin' in a' the crack o' dawn."

They simply stared.

"Why are you bloody nakid?"

"Why do you wear your mask even in your bare skin, mon ami?"

The door slammed shut. A few quick-fire rings of the bell later, it was open again.

"I'll go finish up. Yeh all sit in the livin' room."

- - - - - - -

Turkey felt groggy. Not the 'i am a tired old man' type of groggy he had begun to experiance around 3 centuries ago in intervals (The milestone of life was hard to hit for a Nation-tan, but hey, he'd done it). It was more like a 'I was jumped outside my shower and bonked out' kind of groggy.

He was clearly in a car. A nice one at that, he grudgingly admitted. Damn French dandies and their Ferraris. He was not tied up, which was as surprising as him still being nakid. Except his mask, it was somehow still attached to his face through some sort of common curteousy on the behalf of his captors. Clothes did lay on top of his privates, which was pretty kind in a way.

He pulled them on quietly before he caught the attention of England and France in the front seats. They were babbling on about who was a worse driver and who was better. France seemed to be winning, but the world will never know since Sadiq tapped them both on the shoulders, emitting a dark aura that told them they better have a very good explanation.

"C'est une surprise, Turkquie!" France said jovially in his prissy homo language. Turkey ignored Arthur's cries and frets of crashing when he brought a closed-fist karate chop down on Francis's head. The pansy rubbed it sorely and seemed a mite dizzy for a moment, but he was able to steer. Sadiq withdrew the fist and held it up on standby toward the tea-fetishist with a clear threat.

"If yeh can't talk Turkish, yeh better damn well speak a lingo I DO know, got it?" He actually had a pretty good assumption from 'surprise' and 'Turkquie' what had been said, he just wasn't in a perfect mood after being spirited away without permission.

"Oh come now, Turkey, surely you've realized what this is about by now?" England scoffed, but then quickly changed his tone and the sound of tightening leather gloves. "It's the 29th of October, correct?" Everyone else in the car nodded affirmatively. "Yeah, and what takes place on the 29th of October?" Turkey shrugged. England huffed impatiently. "It's funny how WE remember the date of the fall of YOUR empire and you don't."

The fist came down on top of fuzzy-brow's head. Harder. He wasn't driving.

France sniggered at his rival's pain and finished the thought. "He means your Anniversaire, Turkquie! Happy Birthday!"

Sadiq thought.

". . . oh yah. I guess I kinda block out this date in meh mind."

The car came to a halt and France leaned his arm on the back of the driver's seat to look right at the Turk. "Really, Turkquie. We went through all this trouble for your pleasure, too."

"Is it a hooker?" He asked suspiciously. If it was a hooker, he'd pass. He wasn't that pathetic.

"Not quite, non." France raised an eyebrow, as if expecting such things of him shouldn't be the norm.

Another car pulled up to the house and England, still out of it from being clobbered one-handedly, nudged France. "The blindfold, hurry up you wanker."

"I'm clearly not a wanker, mon amour. You see to that personally, do you not?"

Before Arthur could crush his manhood, the frenchman handed Sadiq a cloth. He tied up his eye-holes obligingly, figureing the sooner it started the sooner it was over. The horn of their car was sounded, and the other car replied. He found himself letting the two of them lead him somewhere, presumably the house they had halted outside.

- - - - - - -

The blindfold was undone and he was faced with a door.

"We're going to leave for 5 hours. If you get done too fast, there's food and a tv in the next room."

"But the room in front of you is our present. Joyeux anniversaire, Turquie."

Without room for a reply, question, or complaint, the Brit and the Frank were gone. The lone victim huffed heavily. He much expected something completely disasterous behind the door. Perhaps a huge, ridiculous trap that ended with him hanging from the ceiling by his pants and a huge banner dropping down that proclaimed "Happy we-beat-your-ass-day, love France and Lord England". Perhaps it would be a sincere attempt that would go horridly wrong. Like a hooker. He really didn't need a hooker, yet he was convinced that's whet was coming.

Without further ado, he pushed open the door and stepped through in one clean, mentally-prepared movement.

Even through his face-adornment, his face showed complete surprise. There was a large bed, complete with cheesy crimson sheets and an array of pillows in different sizes and shapes and shades of red through pink. That part was disgusting. A man was sprawled on the bed... completely nakid apart from a bow tied into his hair. Everything else was out there. Even to this extent, he wasn't exactly surprised. There was only one point that bothered him.

It was his long-term rival who was spread out like a free meal; Heracles Karupsi, the nation of Greece. No gag or chains or anything either. He wasn't surprised Turkey had come in either. He had definately been expecting it. Their gazes locked, both seeming pretty calm despite the situation.

"Wht th'fuck is this shit?" Sadiq blurted out.

Greece's face dropped in surprise and hurt. "Eeh? That's... cruel."

Something was dreadfully off here. "Greece" smiled and shifted, running a hand up one of his legs seductively. It didn't really work.

"What the hell is this. Yeh ain't right in the head. Get dressed so I can kick your ass."

Heracles shook his head. "I agreed to be your birthday presant, please make use of it."

Shit no. As if. "Who the hell're you and what'r you doin' in that bastard's body?"

The Greece seemed startled. He hadn't actually thought that statement literally, but the reaction seemed like he had hit it on the spot. The 'Greece' bowed his head in defeat. "I guess I've been reading too much Tsundere. And I was so sure, too, that Greece-san would be the perfect form. I apologize." The air flickered oddly and suddenly Greece wasn't Greece. Turkey's face turned red from seeing the true form.

"J-japonya!" He yelped, forgetting his English depite the stern talking-to he had given someone else not 20 minutes ago. "Sen çıplak Neden cehennem vardır ... ve kokuşmuş Grecian?!"

Japan shook his head, having no idea what had just been yelled at him. "If you want to choose a person yourself, that's okay. I'll use my ninjustsu to become them. It's not quite as good if you know, though... Not that I turned out to be a good actor..."

Turkey was still flabbergasted at the initial propostion. "Why the hell're ya acting as a prostitute?!"

"Prostitute? I'm not getting paid. This is a presant."

Just then, the evening went from freaky to worse in five seconds. The door behind Turkey across the room he had initially been unblindfolded in was practically slammed open, making the two jump out of their skin. The person who had appeared was none other than the real Greece, in the sweaty flesh. He seemed like he had just made more movement than he had in his entire life all in one flurried dash.

"YOU CAN'T JAPAN, I DON'T WANT YOU TO GO TO HIS SIDE!!" Was the terrified, strangled cry that came screeching into the lovemaking-room.

Turkey sneered. "Even worse, the real 'un." Japan turned deep red. His pride as a Japanese man had already been beaten well and good with this arrangement; this was the absolute worst. While he fretted, the other two were going at it like they usually did. Birthdays were all forgotten.

"You dare touch Japan, you cretin!"

"I didn' touch him, stupid. And it ain't yer buisness what I do with who! I would advise you to keep yer hands off MY Japan." He sneered.

"He's not yours, dirtbag! Get out before your smell sticks to this house!" He pinched his nose pointedly.

"Not until I get mah presant." Turkey smirked.

"I would rather take it from you before I let you dirty Japan."

"Wanna take me up on that?"

"N-no!"

"Don' say shit yeh can't go through with. Now get out or join in, I don' care, just get outta mah face!"

"I'm not leaving you with Kiku!"

"Then yer joining?"

"That's preferable, but it's still no good."

"Heh. You're jus' scared I'll be good~" Turkey crooned.

"If I ever did that with you, I wouldn't take it, stupid."

"That's fine. Yeh wanna stick it to me? I bet ya can't make me cry one bit."

"I didn't say I was going to do anything!"

"Then it's just me and Kiku~" Turkey turned around and made a gesture of feigned disappointment. Sarcasm always helped.

"N-no way! I'll do it instead!" Greece creid out in a rush.

"No! I want Kiku~!" Turkey whined mockingly.

"I'm sticking around to watch over him!"

"Threesome, sweet." Turkey grinned. His state of mind often changed at the turn of a hairpin. If Greece wanted it, he wanted it more. Childish, sure, but there it was.

Of course, Japan was a little confused about how all that had just happened. He could only put it down to the fickleness of westerners... Wait, Turkey was part-Asian or something. How confusing. Very much so.

There wasn't much to not understand as soon as the rivals sat downon each side of the bed, never breaking their deadlock gaze until they turned to pull off their shoes, shirts, and everything else. Japan almost felt a little left out, lying between the two rivals. Moreso than left out, his Japanese sense of premonition for possible dangerous on-coming events was whirring at an alarming rate.

- - - - - - - -

Sadiq woke to an uncouth noise; one of a mewling cat that had gotten into the house somehow. Well THAT was precisely what he needed first-thing in waking, a reminder of his troubles. His instinct was to swat at it sleepily, but something told him not to.

He snuggled into the both of them.

"Happy Birthdy to me...~" He sing-song voiced quietly.


End file.
